Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Unionize That!

Now, I don't know a ton about unions in general, but as far as I know (rather, knew), most unions have something to do with labor, workers, industry and that sort of thing. Like the teacher's union, steel worker's union, and so forth. Thinking about unions immediately puts into me into a late 19th century- early 20th century frame of mind; you know, restricting child labor, protecting factory workers, etc.

However, in working on a side project, I've just come across and entirely different kind of union. Apparently mid-19th century spawned art unions, like the American Art Union (whose monthly members publication I've been reading). The purpose of this type of unions, as far as I can tell, is to give up-and-coming artists a chance and to provide some place for them to display their work. For the low, low cost of $5 a year (in 1849, since that;'s the year I've gotten up to in their publication...maybe dues went up later), you could join the American Art Union. You don't have to be American or an artist necessarily, just a person with 5 dollars. The Union takes all of these dues and uses them to publish a journal, to but or borrow new paintings for their New York gallery (which was free to the public!), and to commission a painting. For your 5 dollars, you get the monthly bulletin (which is some quality reading, let me tell you), a mini copy of the year's painting, and a raffle entry to win the painting (one for every 5 dollars you pay in). In flush years, members might even get a bronze medal for their trouble.

It's a cool idea, and it certainly worked for the American Art Union. In 1839, they had 814 members. By 1848, they were up to 16,475 members. That year, they raked in $85,134.28. Not bad at all. Still, it seems like a weird kind of union. I suppose an interest in art is the underlying common thread between all of the members, but it just doesn't feel right to me. There is only a small board of central committee members/overseers- no general nation-wide organizational structure. The biggest benefit of membership seems to be a raffle ticket- the Union doesn't fight for artists rights or anything like that (that being said, I would totally pay 5 dollars to enter in a raffle for a painting). It doesn't seem serious enough to me. All teachers have to join the teacher's union (okay, all public school teachers, but still that's the vast majority), but these art unions seem to be a lackadaisical, just-for-fun sort of thing. Certainly, not all American artists joined the American Art Union; not all gallery owners, art professionals, appreciators, etc. were members. So maybe calling themselves a union was a bit of wishful thinking- maybe they were more of a "club"?

Later Addition: For people who like pictures, I dug this up from the May 1849 Bulletin of the American Art-Union:

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Fun Words Starting with P!

Extra points for you if you already knew these words.

Pusillanimous 
[pyoo-suh-lan-uh-muhs] Origin: 1580-90
-adj. Cowardly
He is so pusillanimous that he is afraid to leave the house.

Poltroon
[pol-troon] Origin: 1520-30
-noun. A wretched coward; craven
-adj. Marked by utter cowardice
You evil poltroon! (I really like this word as an insult)

Postprandial 
[pohst-pran-dee-uhl] Origin: 1810-20
-adj. After a meal, usually dinner
I'm always ready for a postprandial snooze.

Sacking A City: Do It Right, Or Not At All


If you’re an invading horde, or massively successful conqueror or an army commander after vengeance, it might be handy to know how to really sack a city, and to sack it good. Of course, there’s always the standard pillaging (take all the treasure, antiquities, etc.), which has been done a lot (like Constantinople by the Crusaders). There’s also the equally frequent (and effective) burning to the ground, like say, at Troy. But I mean, if you’re really gonna sack a city, you have to go all out and get creative.

Best example of a truly thorough sacking of a city? Carthage circa 146BC. Those Romans not only defeated the city militarily (okay, it took them two years), but they also burned and basically leveled the city. Furthermore, legend has it (and some 19th century historians) that the Romans salted the earth, so that it couldn't support life. Even if its a bit impractical (carting large doses of salt peter around is probably more effort than its worth, plus you can't just occupy the city after you've salted it to death, can you?), that’s thinking outside of the box.

So the moral of the story is that if you want to sack a city thoroughly, do something really rotten, like ruin their ability to grow food for the foreseeable future. Then again, if you yourself want to actually use the city post-defeat, you probably shouldn’t turn it to dust. You could be like the Ostrogoths in Ravenna, and just keep everything nice and pretty, in the hopes of making you seem less like a barbarian. After all, rebuilding or starting a new city is expensive. So if you're feeling particularly vindictive, go ahead and sack a city; but if you're not going to really do it right, don't bother at all (unless its an ugly city...in which case I suggest razing it to the ground and starting over...unless you have no aesthetic skills, in which case...oh never mind).

Monday, June 20, 2011

Fresh New Artwork of the Week!

As much as I love the internet, exhibition catalogues and other conveniences, you really can't beat a museum. The wonderful thing about museums is that you can see an object in person, which really makes a world of difference. For instance, I once wrote in a paper about a faience monkey figurine with a cartouche of some Egyptian pharaoh (Ramesses maybe? It was a while ago). Even with a black-and-white picture of the thing, I barely recognized it when I stumbled upon the thing in person. Who knew the "miniature" in its description meant "so small its barely visible"?! I wrote about that thing?! Man, I really don't think I had any idea what I was working with, back when I wrote that paper. How was I supposed to know?

On a different note, the new Artwork of the Week comes from the same museum as the little faience monkey figurine (in Nafplio, Greece). This week's "artwork" stretches the usual definition of art, since it is also a practical object. But you have to admit, something like this requires quite a bit of craftsmanship. Perhaps you're wondering what I'm talking about? Alright, fine, I'll tell you.

This week's artwork is a Mycenaean-era bronze suit of armor from Dendra.

Bronze suit of armor, 1400 BC, Dendra, Nafplio Archaeological Museum, Nafplio, Greece

If you think about it, this is truly amazing. Someone, thousands of year ago, actually wore this. Can you imagine that? Look at the size of it! It is a giant metal dress! How would someone have ever fought in that? (Granted, this one was probably just for the burial of a Mycenaean warrior and likely never saw battle.) Several things about this, besides its size and weight: 1) look at that skirt! How do you march to battle in a banded knee-length metal skirt? The design of this armor doesn't seem to take into consideration how real people actually move, and 2) either Mycenaeans had really long necks, or such tragically bad eyesight that covering up their faces didn't matter. The big cylindrical neck of that armor is really high.

I'm still wondering how anyone could have managed hand-to-hand combat in armor like this. It is hot, heavy, and rather inflexible. Still, it is truly amazing. Even more amazing is that it survived thousands of years. It makes me admire the Mycenaeans (even more). And you should admire them too, for their brash, warrior-loving, insane armor-making selves.